No Indians in my Cupboard
by ReneeHouck
Summary: Ash has been through so much. From offing Linda, loosing and getting his but kicked by both deadites and those who showed up later in the cabin. Now he gets sucked through a Vortex to a world where he's nothing but a work of fiction? What sort of bull is this? May change rating to M later. R&R please.
1. It's Alive!

_**This is an idea that I've toyed with (no pun intended) for quite a few years, and I finally decided to place Ash in this position, out of everyone else. I can't promise that I know where this is headed, but hopefully you'll enjoy it all the same.**_

 _ **Disclaimer:** I do not own the Evil Dead franchise whatsoever. I also do not own the character Ash Williams, nor do I own the show that's briefly mentioned (Jack of all Trades, for those who are curious). I don't even own the dog that's in this story, because she is not mine. I only own Heather._

* * *

Wind whipped around the woods with undeniably harsh force. Roots rose and fell, struggled to free themselves from the earth and made it look as if the ground itself were breathing in the gusts of air. Trees practically bent like tall blades of grass as their leaves caught the wind, many of them ripping off at the stem. There was no storm though, no rain pelted the ground to soften it and there was no thunder trying to roar over the howls of the air. Lightening didn't threaten the trees to catch them on fire, or even any unfortunate souls that were in the woods at the time…not that anyone was out there. No, a hurricane would've been easy to handle, let alone to explain in regards to what was going on. Nothing within the past two days of Ashley Williams' life was easy to explain. All he'd wanted to do, was spend time with his girlfriend, Linda, at an abandoned cabin. And sadly in those two days, the dead began to walk the earth because of some damned book and a few translated words on a tape recorder they'd found. Apparently this book summoned demons that possessed the bodies of the living…and now a whirling vortex that not only sucked away the evil, but was trying to tug him along? His luck was just horrible anymore.

The man gritted his teeth, grasping onto the counter of the cabin that had been his living hell since the moment he and his now dead girlfriend, Linda had set foot there. From killing a woman he loved, to losing his right hand to the deadite menace…it had just not been good for him. The wind tugged his dark hair back from his face, and he could swear it was like there were fingers yanking his head back. The feeling of the counter top ripping had his eyes widening. Holding himself in place with only one hand wasn't fair, and he couldn't help but wince when his fingers slipped as the counter top grew stuck in the doorway of the cabin. No one would believe this. Not one little bit. The chainsaw he'd attached to his right stump was against the countertop, the arm instinctively trying to hold on with a hand that wasn't there. Dark eyes wide and wild, they watched as the cabin itself even start to fall apart.

"How the hell do you turn this thing off!?" Sadly he was yelling to no one, his eyes turning to the body lying on the floor, and even she was scooting as if gravity was now centered around the swirling pool that had formed in the woods. He didn't even remember her name..but apparently her father was the reason for all of this, and she was the cause for this damn vortex. It had apparently destroyed the evil, but now she was dead and he couldn't translate that damn book even if it was around.

He didn't even know where it was.

It was no use in the end, the brunette felt his fingers slip, and soon enough he found himself sucked into a dimensional portal, with no knowledge of where he would end up.

 ** _-Elsewhere in the World-_**

" _Luckily I don't have a Cherry Tree"_

Were it not for the food in her mouth, she would've burst out laughing. Instead though, air sucked a noodle back into her throat and she began coughing to keep the threat of the food hitting her windpipe at bay. Forcing the swallow, she couldn't help but giggle around the minor choking sputters. A hand over her mouth as she watched her laptop screen. "Yeah, that's exactly what you say so you can bang the President's niece, Bruce." She spoke to no one in particular, green eyes turning their attention to the chat screen on the laptop.

 _This fuckin' guy._ Heather cracked a grin at the comment, letting her fingers click out a reply on the keyboard.

 _He's killin' me!_

It was nice to find someone who could share a love for something, even if she didn't know them completely. It was always a pleasure, for the brunette, to find someone she didn't know, and not only relate to them on their fandoms, but then learn about one another in other aspects. Roleplay and story writing did that for her usually, and this friend on the other side of the screen was not only a lover of all things horror, but a fellow roleplayer who was fond of playing the brave 'Ash Williams' From 'Evil Dead.'

They were taking a day off, both of them mostly relaxing for now, while Heather was waiting to go to work later in the evening while watching the episodes of a show that Bruce Campbell, the original 'Ash Williams', played in. Not only that, but her newest 'Pop Vinyl' figure of Ash settled on the coffee table around all of the DVDs, the bobblehead state with cute eyes almost too much for her and yet she couldn't quite set him with her Tenth Doctor statue just yet.

Her eyes were lidded as she went back to the little television screen, continuing to watch the curious show she'd sadly missed out on while it was airing and giggling to her hearts content.

" _What are you, some kind of Mad scientist?"_

" _No, Only mildly irritated."_

God it was so cheesy but hilarious all the same. The woman snickered, only to pause when her phone vibrated. She had a text, but the elusive devise was of course gone. Typical. She sighed, typing a quick brb while turning to the couch and began her search. Sliding her hands under cushions, frowned and jerked back when the skin of her right middle finger caught something sharp. "Ow- what the-?" She lifted the arm rest of the couch, spotting a staple from the upholstery sticking out and making her grimace. The back of her middle finger had a nice line, a bit jagged even as it turned red with blood rising to the surface of her finger. Well that could probably scar. Getting up from between the couch and the coffee table, her knees bumped what she'd used for her desk of sorts and sure enough, her Ash figure wobbled and toppled over, falling to the floor.

A sigh escaped her as she moved around the table, blood steadily winding down her fingertip and brushing the figure when she picked it up. Of course, it'd scratch her dominant hand enough to need a band aid on a day she had to work. With a squint, heather spotted the blood on the vinyl figure's chainsaw, even smearing on his face. "Damn it." She quickly grasped the figurine with her other hand, middle finger to her mouth to lick at the cut and grimacing at the sting to follow. She paused, looking at the cut on his face and the blood that had hit him there. "…Least it looks real." She mumbled, slipping to the bathroom and setting the toy on the bathroom counter, Bruce Campbell's voice played on in the living room from the livestream. "If only you were just as real," she sighed, but grinned and shook her head. Impossible. Nothing fantastical like that would happen even when she turned ninety, if she lived that long.

Well maybe in her mind it would, after all there was dementia to look forward to.

 _ **-And Falling again -**_

This was almost too much for him. In fact, he wasn't sure what was going on anymore. Ash felt sick from being spun and flipped about within the portal, but there was nothing in his stomach to really expel. When did he even eat last? Everything anymore was starting to blur…his throat was sore from screaming, he was tired and frustrated. So damn tired, he just wanted to close his eyes and wake up from hell once they were opened. He wanted to wake up from this damned nightmare, look over and maybe see Linda again. Maybe she'd call and he'd forget about the damn cabin visit and they could go somewhere else. It just was dark and…was he even falling anymore!?

He let his eyes close, as the spinning was giving him a headache now. He could feel the steady pounding into his skull right at his forehead. Wind whipped his hair, his clothes. The weight of his chainsaw felt heavy and he was surprised he still had his gun. Which way was up? Which way was down? He didn't even know anymore….

Until he felt something cold and solid hit his chest and his face. It was such a relief to feel something solid that he let his eyes roll back and allowed darkness to take him.

 _ **-And back once more-**_

It was barely noticed at first, Heather thought she'd felt a rumble off in her sisters room, hitting the wall of the bathroom. Surely the dog was kicking the wall…maybe rolling on the bed? Not the first time that happened. Her back was to that wall, opening the cabinet to get a band aid only to hear a small squishing noise.

… _What?_ Looking over her shoulder, she blinked and stared towards the wall, only catching the Ash figure staring at her. She hadn't set him that way…had she? Didn't she set him facing the mirror and the sink? She squinted, looking and leaning forward only to watch as blood—her blood—start to disappear around the cut on his face, almost as if the vinyl itself were absorbing it.

"..The fuck?" She took a step and practically stumbled with the jolt beneath her feet. A yelp escaped her, hissing out as her head hit the wood of the cabinet. Her hands stretched out on either side of her and she held to the wall, catching a yip from the dog in the next room. Since when did Ohio have earthquakes!? She squeezed her eyes shut as she nearly fell towards the bathroom closet, standing in the doorframe once she managed to yank open the door. She could hear the sound of objects on the sink clattering to the floor as they rolled and fell off, the toy included. White knuckle grips on the doorframe, she felt her heart echoing in her ears as her chest grew tight…

And then it all stopped. Her eyes opened slowly as she looked into the closet, the blankets and towels surprisingly in place still. Closing the closet door she looked off to her right. The cabinet was okay, the picture hanging beside it never fell. She turned and looked to see nothing really out of the ordinary. Everything was…fine.

Until she looked down to see a chainsaw at her feet.

"JESUS CHRIST!" She fell back into the corner of the bathroom, eyes wide as she followed the blood covered weapon, spying it's attachment to an arm…and then the body of a man that was face down on her bathroom floor who looked all too familiar. Left hand flying to her mouth, she stared wide eyed and whined out against her palm, still bleeding from her right hand. This was bizarre. Who? Was this? She looked over the dark head of hair resting next to her toilet's base. She inched, stepping carefully over the chainsaw, then around the body altogether to get out of the bathroom with a little squeal.

Ash had jolted a little at the very sound of someone's voice. A woman's no less. He didn't want to open his eyes though. They felt as if they were burning. Hell, every bit of him felt as if it were burning, and the ground he was on felt cool. He registered an odd texture of flooring, and part of his skin was on soft, fluffy carpet. A rug? His conscious made a groan rumble out of his throat, and his eyes rolled back while his lids stubbornly remained shut, only earning his brows to lift. That was only until he felt something moving beside him. That brought those eyes to snap open, narrow even as the weight and shift of the floor moving caught his attention. No deadite was getting the drop on him, the bastards. Paranoia had his hand launch out and grab at what felt like a soft denim, his ears catching a squeal, rather than laughter.

Unfortunately, Heather didn't have the best balance, so she was moving to the ground before her other foot could come out to catch her weight. The drop of her body rattled the few pictures on the nearby walls as the boom shook the floor. Sure enough jingling from a dog collar came to peek out of the room of her little sister and the black lab mix, Abby stared at her on the floor. "Shit—let go!" Heather squirmed and kicked the leg until she heard a grunt and the hand released her.

She scooted back to watch the back of the man shift. His dirty arm, both dirt and dried blood on olive skin, moved so his hand could press to the floor and lift him up. Little by little, he groaned and forced his way up to a sitting position after dragging his legs beneath him to catch the weight. He sat back on his heels with a tired sigh, head limp and the dark tousled hair askew in its thick waves as the angular face turned so Ash could send a narrowed gaze back to the panicked woman.

"…Where the hell am I?"

* * *

 _ **Well here's the first chapter. This will more than likely be a bit more of a ridiculous sort of story, and I hope you enjoy as the story continues. I will hopefully be updating once a week, schedule permitting.**_


	2. Done with your 'Tude

_**A.N- I would to say a few things. First, I want to apologize for a delay in posting, and I hope you've all enjoyed your holidays. I've been dealing with a tad hint of stress to try and get ready for my last semester for college, so be prepared for extended delays in the future. School and graduating with a degree is a high priority**_

 ** _Furthermore, I would like to thank JuliaBoon for the wonderful review. I'm glad you're on board, and I'm happy you like the story so far! Let's see if I can keep you enticed._**

 ** _And now, without further ado, chapter Two._**

* * *

Heather couldn't believe any part of what was going on at this point. The beat of her heart hammered against her ribcage and echoed in her ears while she fixated on the man who was glaring over his shoulder at her. Her lips resembled that of a fish's mouth at this point; open one minute and closing the next in attempts to speak. Her brain unfortunately hadn't registered the lack of a voice though, and so it told her to keep trying. There was a man…sitting in the space just beside her toilet and the bathroom sink…dirty, blood covered, and rather angry. Panic was drowning her thoughts, and while sweat graced her palms that pressed to the carpet, she felt undeniably cold. As her vocal chords caught up with her thoughts, she could only croak out a single word. "…W-what?"

"Where. The Hell. Am I?" Ash repeated, and he took his time to let those dark eyes drift here and there over everything. From the clean counter that was bright white, to the walls that matched. A partially dirty mirror, linoleum flooring, blue fluffy rugs. There was evident tension in his shoulders, and the scowl was a far from playful.

"I….m-my house?" She stammered out while those eyes burned into her. She trembled out lightly against the rough carpet of the living room, having scooted at least that far from the man as he shifted, turned even and plopped his butt so he was sitting facing the sink and able to turn his body towards her. "Please don't…I didn't do anything." She had to swallow the next breath of air as her pulse took a turn towards erratic. How was this possible!? This fictional figure was sitting here, plain as the daylight and sitting in her bathroom!

Ash let his eyes wander over the panicked face of this young woman. "Your house huh?" He lofted a brow while he grimaced. A grunt left him while he scooted on his butt back to the wall so he could lean against it. "Just where the Hell is that?" He felt sore all over, and too damn tired for anymore bullshit. Sure, this broad was scared. Sure, part of him felt bad. But the last few didn't listen to him and they beat the snot out of him at the same time.

"Ohio," the response was quick for fear of making him angry. Heather licked over her lips while she tried to get to her feet. In the midst of rising up, she froze as he tensed up and narrowed his gaze suspiciously at her. "…I won't do anything, I swear—you have a chainsaw and a gun, okay?" She put her hands up in defense and blinked when she thought she heard a gurgling in his direction. Getting to her feet, she watched the man look down at his abdomen with a grimace. "…Do you want food?"

"I wanna find my way back home, lady." Ash snapped his gaze back with a scowl. "I've been through more damn shit than you can imagine, right now. And all I want is to just…" He threw his good hand up, dropping it in his lap as a sigh escaped him, more aggravated than tired. "Fine. Yeah, sure. I'll take food."

Heather bit her bottom lip, catching her tongue in the process at his tone. Panicked as she was, the attitude was not appreciated, and she very badly wanted to snarl at him in response. On the other hand, however, the Social Worker and horror nerd combo knew damn well what he'd been through...or was potentially put through. The chainsaw hand told her that they'd at least gotten to the second movie and he had every right to be a bit moody. Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she nodded to the bathroom he was in. "...You can use the shower if you want. I uh…think my Dad's got stuff you can use. I'll make something'."

She didn't pay any mind to the small frown he sent her way, the anger almost dissipating for a brief moment at her offers. She just turned from him and out of sight with a silent exhale of breath. _I can't deal with this shit._ A hand moved over her forehead as she looked to the coffee table and froze. The whole trilogy for Evil Dead still remained on the short table, and she was quick to snatch them up while her blood turned cold. He couldn't see from the bathroom could he!? Nabbing them all to her chest, she looked around the corner to the bathroom to see the door shutting.

 _Oh thank god._ Her shoulders slumped while she turned to the television stand. The middle section by the T.V. held DVD's and video games of her sisters. Shifting a few photos about, she slipped the three movies in behind a picture of her parents on their wedding day, keeping them hidden for now. How could she explain to the man in her bathroom, that he'd been a small toy at one point? She would've gotten the chainsaw for sure.

A loud Bing from the laptop made her jump and yelp, looking to the device and slowly move around as she heard the shower from the bathroom. There were a few messages that she'd missed it seemed, and she squinted at the few as story offers. Politely clicking the keys to decline and offer a 'brb' she slipped off to the kitchen.

 _There's a man in my bathroom._ Heather kept her eyes on the island counter, her hands resting on it while she stared at her finger. She'd dropped the bandage in the bathroom, but the jagged cut seemed to have stopped bleeding on its own. The digit was still a mess. With a wince she moved off to the family room, slipping through her parent's bedroom to their bathroom. Minimal water was used, so as not to bother his shower as she cleaned the blood from her finger, snagging a Band-Aid as well from their cabinet before returning back to the kitchen.

 _There is a_ _ **fictional character**_ _in my bathroom._ Heather took a deep breath after resting a hand on the refrigerator handle. Lifting the wounded digit to her gaze, she narrowed her eyes. This was perhaps the most illogical thing to ever occur in her 23 years. How the hell did it make sense, for some toy she'd purchased to turn into the full grown man after her blood touched it? It didn't make sense at all. Her head shook with a sigh, gaze flicking over to the coffee pot on the counter left of where she stood. The clock read 12:45…

And she had to be at work by 3:30?

"Fuck," How the hell would this work? Her parents didn't know about him, work didn't know about the situation. She couldn't just take him to work, and she couldn't very well leave him at home for her parents to find him. Licking over her lips she scowled in thought.

There was only one thing she could do. A quick jaunt to the living room, she snatched up her phone and scrolled through her contacts list. One button punch later and she was given a list of numbers to press for different store departments. Pressing zero for customer service, she waited until a young man's voice came on thanking her for calling the store and asking how he could help her.

"Hi, may I speak to a member of management, please?" On hold again, she began looking through the pantry of her kitchen for something to fix, finding soups mostly. Tomato was probably a bad choice…chicken noodle maybe?

"This is Tom, how may I help you?"

"Hi ah, Tom. This is Heather from the Deli. I um...I'm not gonna be able to come into work tonight…I uh—"

"Which Heather is this?"

"Young," she responded, licking over her lips and reaching for the Chunky Chicken Noodle can. "I'm supposed to work at three thirty till ten."

"Alright, Thanks Heather, we'll get it taken care of." Tom's voice made her sigh out lightly, in relief. Out of the managers that were at the store, Tom and Howard were the only two that seemed to care for their employees. Hell, even the store's top manager didn't give two shakes. Running a hand through her hair, she hung up after he'd done so, closing the pantry door to find a half-naked man standing behind it.

A part of Ash never intended to be the world's biggest jerk to this strange woman, not with the way she was being after all…which was sweet as could be if not a little scared. He was still in shambles though in regards to nerves, and the majority of the instinct he'd been going on the last couple days told him that something would happen. As he got into the shower though, taking off the shredded remains of his shirt, the straps to his chainsaw attachment as well as to his shotgun…well, nothing happened. He didn't even get that creepy vibe from the weird painting of the little boy in the bathroom…and hot water was a godsend. He just stood in the spray, not minding the steam of the room in the slightest as he let the warmth soothe the aches he was dealing with, though mindful of his right arm and the still tender stump. He noticed in the far corner of the shower stall that there was a set up for an assortment of soaps it seemed. Not bar soap though, but body washes. Citrus, Toasted Marshmallow, Plum? A lady's bathroom for sure after he curiously opened each and took a whiff. What the hell happened to Irish spring bar soap? Or just regular bar soap in general? Two razors were there, both feminine…the only thing he was familiar with was the Head and Shoulders shampoo…which he had to use with a loofa sponge that was setting on a stand by the shower.

By the time he'd finished, which was until the water got cold, there were still no clothes for him, and he sure as hell wasn't going to step into his dirty old ones. The pants were still okay, but dirty. He winced and looked into the bathroom closet, snagging a white and blue body towel and wrapped it around himself after giving a good once over through his hair. What the hell was taking this broad so long? He narrowed his eyes, fastening the towel at his hip and using his right arm to hold it in place to do so. It was a bit clumsy really, and in the end he opted to just hold the towel in place with the only hand he had. Eying the stump of his right arm he grimaced. He'd need some new bandages for that for sure. He wasn't about to put the old ones on.

It was a struggle to open the door and keep the towel on. In the end he had to drop the towel, open the door, and then re wrap the towel around his waist with his right arm guiding the other bit of the material around. Stepping out of the steamy bathroom, he poked his head out from the small hallway and into the living room to hear the brunette's voice. She was calling off work or something. Brow arched, he padded silently against carpet and the dining room rug until his bare feet were at the door that blocked the woman from his vision.

"I worked three thirty to Ten..." was all he caught, then a pause until the door closed. She clearly hadn't noticed him, because her reaction was to nearly drop the can of soup in her hand while screeching out a 'Jesus Christ!'

"..Hey, what happened to the clothes ya promised?" The can of food made his stomach clench and snarl again with hunger, and he could feel it nearly gnawing on itself. When was the last time he'd honestly eaten..?

"R-right!" Heather swallowed, trying her best not to look the man over as he clutched to the only thing keeping him from being naked in front of her. "Clothes…" The can of soup was set on the island counter, moving the long way around it to head back into the family room so as not to squeeze past the still partially wet man. "Those would probably be good, give me just a second." She had to breathe out and tamp back the fluster that attempted to tickle up into her cheeks.

She didn't expect the man to follow behind her, but sure enough he was doing so and she felt her fingers fumble after opening her parents' bedroom door. Her father's dresser was immediately to the right, and she started to frantically look for something that had jeans. He had to have his jeans in one of these drawers right? "If some of your clothes aren't bad I could wash them," she muttered.

"Yeah whatever, just hurry up." The snapped voice made her pause as she finally found a pair of pants. "Sooner I get the hell out of here the better. I'm also gonna need a map, 'cause 'Ohio' isn't helping me out at all, shrimp." She was still lingering on the jeans, and he gave a little growl, and she caught the stump waving close to her. "Hurry up, damn it. What are you doing, staring off into la-la land?"

His tone, the snippy snark behind everything he had to say…She was never one to take rude people all too well, and aggravation was rising. His last comment did snap her back for a moment, jeans yanked out as he grumbled about her. The dresser drawer was closed with a slam that even had Ash jumping.

"You know what. No. No I'm not in la-la land," She swiveled and glared at him, pointing a finger since his hand was occupied with holding the towel. "But I'm getting damn tired of your attitude!" She glared up to those dark eyes that seemed to go a bit rounder, the glare subsiding a moment. "I don't know what you've been through, but I can guess it hasn't been fun at all with how bloody and torn you were. I get it. You're a little peeved—Well you're not the only one! I don't even know _where_ you came from or _**how**_ you got in my house! But you're stuck here!" She let the jeans whap against his now dry chest and she snorted, his eyes narrowing a bit as she did so. She watched him open his mouth but she only grew louder. "Now I've done nothing but try and help your bloody behind, and the _**least**_ you could do is say 'Thank you,' instead of being some grumpy ass _Dick wad_ because you just happen to show up in my house with no idea of where you're at!"

She used the jeans as a way to keep him pushed out of her way, and he was surprisingly able to stumble around. The moment her hand let go of the pants, he moved to catch them, and all that did was cause his bath towel to slip. "I'm making food!" she used his towel as a way to skirt right out of the bedroom. "Find your own damn Shirt!"

The door closed behind her with a thud, and Ash actually felt his shoulders tense as part of him jumped. What the hell was that? His eyes narrowed at the door that was closed now, looking down to the pants and scowling. She called him a…a Dick wad? He snorted, searching around the drawers and finding boxers, which he didn't touch. Wearing another man's pants was one thing. Wear his underwear? No thank you. There wasn't a button up in sight though, which had him glaring a little more, but he soon opted for a light gray long sleeved shirt which he sat on the King sized bed behind him.

He was still stewing about her barking at him as he slipped into the jeans one leg at a time. " _I don't know what you've been through._ Damn right you haven't, shorty." He grumbled and nearly mocked her words. "You'd piss your pants with the crap I've seen." He wanted to button jeans, only to frown as he remembered his lack of a Right hand. "…Shit." He ran his tongue over his teeth and looked around. He opted to flop backwards onto the bed behind him to keep his jeans up. Even then, he struggled to fasten the button one-handed. Even a damned zipper was trouble, and he let out low grumbled curses until they were on.

He breathed out as he sat up, reaching for the shirt and tugging it on. The arms fit, though the shirt itself seemed a little large at the middle. This fella was a bit shorter and probably a bit larger around. He could tell that with the way the pants inched up just a bit at his ankles…until he stood up. Then they nearly fell with the rest of the denim, just catching at the curve of his backside.

"God Damn it!"

Heather heard that curse from the kitchen, having nearly dumped the soup in a pot she clattered about with her own snarls at the time. La-la land indeed, the bastard. Why did she like the assholes in media? She'd folded her arms and glared at the soup pot, which was starting to steam up when she heard him snarl from her parent's bedroom. Licking over her lips, she turned off the stove, lid placed over the food to keep it hot and moved to the room. She really didn't want to, but at the same time, the Social Worker within her was stubborn. This was going to give her a headache for sure if he kept his attitude up. She quietly approached the door, a knuckle tapping it while leaning forward to listen.

"What?" Was the snap from inside, and once more she narrowed her gaze at the door.

"…Soups Done!" She retorted twisting and moving away soon enough. She didn't get past the couch along the wall though before she heard him call out, a little tired sounding in her opinion, and enough to make her stop. She turned around, stared at the door to her parent's room, and let out a long sigh before approaching once more. An easy twist of the door handle had her taking in the sight of Ash holding up the pants she'd handed him, the towel on the bed now beside him. He was still shirtless, but at this point she was using her annoyance with his attitude to keep from staring, eyes directly trained on his face for the time being.

Dark eyes glared out to her, but strong shoulders slumped as he sighed out. "…I need a belt."

"There's one there," Heather pointed to the dresser, which only earned her a sharper scowl to which she rolled her eyes at. "…Ya need help?"

"….Please," the word struggled from his lips and she bit back the smirk, the short brunette moving into the room to snag the belt. She let her gaze dip to where the belt loops of his jeans rose up to the very hem's edge, where denim and tan stomach met. There was just the faintest hint of dark hair rising, just a barely there dip down the blue that had her tongue resting between clenched teeth. _Professional, Heather._ The end of the belt was slipped in the first loop of his pants, working around as she gave a little huff. "..Sorry, I figured these would fit better. I mean, I know my dad's a little short, but I kinda thought…" she bit her lips as she gently lifted a hand, pushing at his shoulder to guide him in turning to get to the next loops.

"Thought what?" The anger wasn't there as bad, but there was the obvious distaste in the fact he had to have someone help him.

"Well, I thought it'd cancel with your butt." She shrugged, slipping the leather through the back loops to his next hip before he turned to face her.

"….You sayin' my ass is big, shorty?" He couldn't help but narrow his gaze down at her, one brow arching significantly higher than the other as the clink of the buckle hit his ears while she slipped the two ends together.

"No, I—tell me if this is too tight at all." She pulled at the end strap, looking up and waiting for him to nod his okay. "..just thought they'd cancel out…" She shook her head and let out a breath, swapping subjects. "I'll put your pants in the washer real quick too. Shouldn't take that long and I can get all the stains out…"

"Uh huh.." Ash watched her poke the metal prong through the leather and slip the leftover through a belt loop. The jeans bunched just a tad, but it probably wouldn't be noticeable if he put the shirt on. She was moving to leave while he reached for the shirt, though his attention stayed on her. "…So is this a confession that you were looking?" He watched as she paused, taking his sweet time to tenderly move his right arm through the appropriate sleeve of the shirt, so as not to irritate the bandaged stump. If he didn't know any better, he could swear her cheeks were tinted just a shade pink despite her glare.

"Finish gettin' dressed," she grumbled, moving from his sight. For once after all of this utter and complete bullshit since the cabin, he could feel a grin etch onto his face albeit, a small one. It faded though when she called out that they would be going to town when he was done eating. Right arm through the sleeve, there was a bit of a rush to get his head and left arm in the shirt, pulling it down as he stalked after her.

"What fo-" He didn't see her when he entered the green carpeted living room and so he paused. Why did they have two of these things? Living room, to dining room, to kitchen on the right and another living room with a fireplace to the left. Since she hadn't turned deadite on him yet, the man allowed himself a bit of a respite, taking in a few details of the house. The wall to his right had an array of framed pictures. A heavier set man, a woman with brown hair all. Probably her parents. Two sets of grandparents. He spotted a girl with red hair, a little blonde…these had to be old ones because—Naw. He caught a familiarly shaped face, but with a perm and short hair…and probably ten years younger or so. The rest of the photographs had other people and their children…family, he'd assume. He pursed his lips and gave a small, quiet whistle. Damm…big family.

Heather reemerged from the blue living room, passing through the dining room and he was quick to move after her again. "What're we goin' to town for?" he inquired with a narrowed gaze. "I gotta get a way back to Michigan, and I don't need you involved—"

"Bit late for that," Heather slipped into the small laundry room past the kitchen, opening a washer with a black, clear top after grabbing a pine sol bottle and a small hand held scrub brush. "And if you want to leave, then why not go to town? You won't get a taxi out here." She chuckled, pausing and then glaring over at him as she pulled his wallet from the pants, holding it out for Ash to take. "Besides, I used up one of my call off's for you. I gotta stay out from three, until ten. Otherwise, I'll get my ass in hot water."

Ash frowned, taking the wallet as she dabbed the brush in the pine sol poured into the bottle's cap and began scrubbing his pants. "Yeah well…" he arched a brow at her work. "…yer a big girl. Why would they ca—what're you?" he grabbed the bottle and squinted at the instructions. "…Hey, this is floor cleaner. What the hell are you puttin' it on my pants for?"

"Look," Heather set the pants down and let out a shoulder dropping sigh, "You have your skill sets. I have mine. Pine sol, whether you wanna believe or not, gets out a helluva lot of stains, from blood stains to food stains." She shook the brush at him as if it were a menacing device. "And if **you** wanna be the one to explain to my parents why you're here and spending the night, then be my guest! 'Cause the only way you're gonna get that is if you tell 'em we're dating. And frankly, I haven't said diddly about anyone." She returned to her work, soon inspecting each spot on his pants before dropping them into the washer. "Plus, you only have one damn pair of pants, a chainsaw, and a gun. You have no shirt, no clean socks, and one pair of underwear." She'd left them in his pants, tossing in the socks previously mentioned before putting detergent and softener into their appropriate spots. The lid closed, and she pushed power, ignoring the song that her machine gave her in greeting, soon changing settings to start the wash. "Go eat. It's on the stove."

Ash, on the other hand, stumbled back a little at the musical machine. "…Fancy," he muttered, warily eying it while retreating back to the kitchen where a bowl was already out. Chicken noodle. Of course..well it was better than tomato or anything right now. The idea of consuming red liquid might make him dry heave at this point. Ladle grabbed, he scooped himself some and looked around, finding the spoons in the island counter's drawer. That was also weird. "..Where'd you get a fancy washer like that?" Ash didn't sit, but merely kept his food at the island as he scooped a spoonful of chicken, broth, and noodles into his mouth. Actual flavor and something partially solid made his stomach snarl, and he started to forget about manners for a moment. "Never seen one with all those fancy buttons.."

Heather cringed, biting her bottom lip and shook her bowed head while leaning against the washer. "…It's a new model," she lied, a silent breath escaping her. There was no way she could keep everything about him a secret. How was any of this supposed to turn out? How could she tell him what he was without getting shot or her head sawed off? How could she tell her parents without _someone_ getting shot!? She gave a low sigh and moved out of the laundry room. "Don't worry about it. Soon as you're ready, we're heading out to get you clothes, and buy me some time."

 _I'll need all of the time I can get.._


	3. The Future And Wally World

_**And we're back! I deeply apologize for the long delays with these chapters. The creative mind works painfully slow and sporadic, so hopefully I can make it up by posting this long awaited third chapter. Hopefully it isn't near as choppy as I feel it seems to be. I will admit, I partially rushed because I wanted to give some life back into this story. I've been meaning to update, so please forgive me.**_

 ** _Thank you, JuliaBoon, for leaving a lovely review! I also want to thank Chaosjuice98 and AwesomeMan327 for the favorite! Hopefully I can keep you all entertained still._**

* * *

Ash was curious for her intention to go out so eagerly, looking over to the washer curiously while she sat down with him as he ate. There was a bowl of soup at least left in that pot, but he tilted his head when she didn't eat at all. "…You gonna eat?" he swallowed down a bit of carrot and noodle from the more filling soup. This was better than the simple noodles and little miniature chunks of mystery meat sort of thing. He could idly recall the easy Campbell's soup that was so salty he needed to down a glass of water after eating half a bowl.

"I did before you showed up," was the reply, slowly looking over to the coffee table where she could easily spot the near empty bowl she'd had, as well as a few things left of her previous lunch. "…You actually interrupted it a bit." She waved him off as she saw his mouth open, rising up from her chair. "Keep eatin' if you're hungry. We'll get dinner tonight somewhere."

She didn't see much of a protest from him, pausing when she happened to notice that there was not a soul in sight…other than Ash and herself, of course. _The dog…_ She moved to pick up her foot remnants from earlier, closing her laptop absentmindedly while moving around the corner of the hallway from the family room, peering into her sister's room.

Sure enough, there was the black canine curled up on her master's bed, lifting her head when she spotted Heather, as a thick tail thumbed softly on the mattress.

Ash paid little mind to what she was doing, but even he had to look up when he heard kissing sounds. Licking chicken broth from his lips, the man perked his gaze up to momentarily pause at the backside of the brunette, only to look to her face quickly as she turned around. Brow quirking, he peered around her as she called out 'Abby,' and soon spotted an older looking black and white canine slink around the corner. At the sight of the dog, he sat up in his chair, tilting his head as Heather coaxed her further past the kitchen while the dog seemed a tad scared as it—she, now that the canine approached. Though her tail was wagging, she looked a hint timid with the slow approach. He could see white on her belly, but it seemed she was starting to have more white on her chin from age.

"Abby," Heather called again, and the dog stopped only to Ash just to lick his thigh after a quick sniff, making him tense up briefly, and watch as she clicked her claws across the linoleum to what he could assume was her food bowl as he heard scraping sounds of food being dumped into something metal.

"…Didn't even know you had a dog," Ash mumbled out, looking over to her when she returned, jumping a bit at the soft musical beeps behind him. Was that the washer already? When did they sound like that!?

"She hides," was all Heather replied as the dog started to eat what was left of her noodles. She moved to the washer, opening the lid and grabbing the few things that were in there to be soon tossed into the dryer. They wouldn't take long to dry…really, she took in a deep breath and twisted the knobs accordingly and pushed start, letting it rumble to life. He was going to need more clothes, which would buy her the time for work…but how was Mom going to ignore a pair of pants that weren't her husbands in her dryer? Not to mention a pair of men's underwear?

Scrubbing a hand over her face, Heather growled out in agitation, yanking out her phone again while moving back into the kitchen to move her dirty lunch bowl from the top of the dryer to the kitchen sink where she filled it with hot water to soak, the same with the soup pot that was empty. "..When you're done rinse your bowl in the sink…then get your boots on."

Ash couldn't help but stare at the small black square she had in her hand, something he thought she'd had earlier when he spooked her. Dark eyes watched as she seemed fixated on it, pushing who knew what on the side he couldn't see as he chewed his chicken. "…We're leaving then?" He looked as the dog had slunk to his side, the little snort she made catching his attention. His hand came down to her head, petting lightly and getting the black and white muzzle on his thigh. "Hey what're you doing anyway?" He finally turned his attention back to Heather.

"Texting my little sister." She muttered, only to freeze as he looked all the more confused when he stared at her. _Eighties, Heather. He's from the Eighties…_ "…I'm Getting into contact with her so she'll throw your clothes in my room before my folks get here."

"On that?" Ash quirked a brow as the dog went back to her room, snorting and shaking his head. "Thing's tiny, how're you doing anything with that..?" He turned his attention to the right of him, another spoonful of soup being taken in. Now that he thought about it…her phone was all fancy too. Standing upright, and where was its cord? Near black eyes drifted up, soon widening when he saw a calendar and its date. Two-thousand _what!?_

Heather actually jumped when she heard him sputter on soup. Moving over after sending the text and soon patting on the man's back as he started to choke. "Hey, Hey! What the hell—"

"What the hell is that!?" Ash sputtered, pointing to the calendar, which had the brunette turning and frowning at it.

"…It's a damn chipmunk, what the—"When he glared at her, she had to do a double take and pause. The calendar. Of course it would have the year nestled in by which month was current. The young woman gulped and took a few steps as he batted her hands away when they lingered on his shoulders. _React, Heather._ She tensed up a little and stepped out of his view. _He doesn't know that you know him._ "What's wrong with the calendar?"

"The year- Is that right?" The dark haired man took another wide-eyed look at the 2015 on the calendar, twisting back around to look at her with a gulp. He searched her face. The future? That god damned, good for nothing portal sent him to the future? "…Christ," he raked his hand through his hair, pulling on the dark tresses as he leaned forward, breathing out and placing his elbows on his knees.

He wasn't going to vomit, was he? "Hey…H-hey calm down." His bowl was practically empty, so Heather moved, snagging it and running back to the sink to get him a drink of water. "No getting rid of anything you just ate—you need that." A quick scoot back to the hunched over figure, and she was cautiously lowering the water for his view, a hand tentatively resting on his shoulder. "..The year is right, yeah…otherwise it wouldn't be up there."

Ash only cringed at such a reply, tension in the warm hand on his back and fingers twitching. He barely seemed to feel them though, his entire body felt numb, his heart and that heavy hammering echoed in his ears. His eyes rolled over to catch that glass of water and he took it, chugging it down in hopes that roiling lump in his throat wasn't his recently consumed soup threatening to bubble up out of his twisting stomach. Satisfied that he could keep food down, he sat up a little, his only hand still cupping his forehead partially. "Jesus..." he breathed out and closed his eyes, deep breaths being forced in his chest as the hand upon his shoulder left. "You mean to tell me I've been thrown almost…what, thirty years..." dark eyes turned to the frowning girl, his head shaking as he pushed up onto his feet. "Ah forget it." This was almost too much to wrap his brain around. "This is unbelievable," he grumbled out lowly.

 _If only you knew the half of it…_ Heather nearly cringed at the thought of telling him he was a fictional character, but rather than that she merely shook her head and licked her lips. The bottom of the two sneaking between her teeth to be chewed upon more out of habit. "..You ready to go then..?" She spoke hesitantly, taking a step back to both give him space and have room to flinch back if he decided to snap at her again.

Ash was more focused on his breath for the time being, deep gusts of oxygen filled his lungs with the waste of air moving out of them slowly. Calm. He just had to stay calm, otherwise this girl could take him to the looney bin. Then how the hell was he going to get home? Was there even a home to go to? Probably not. Thirty years, his parents were probably a wreck…and his poor sister…his friends. Thirty years. Scrubbing his hand over his face, he let the fingertips fall from his lips with a tired sigh, peering over to the short woman beside him. "Yeah." He mumbled out, his hand raking through his hair with a slight agitation now. That god damn book. Stupid recording. A part of him hoped that he'd wake up by his girlfriend in the cabin and all of this would turn out to be the worst nightmare of his life. Looking at his right stump though…it just felt too real. He shook his head as his hand settled on his hip, thumb hooking into the pocket of the borrowed jeans. "Yeah, I'm ready as I'll ever be."

There was a brief nod from the short woman, moving around and setting her usual routine for leaving. The main things needed were obvious; driver's license and keys. Sneaking off to her room, she grabbed the cartoony 'Ninja Turtles' wallet on her dresser and shoved it into the left back pocket of her jeans. The action followed as she snagged the small ring of keys for her car. Shoes were taken care of easily enough, and once that was done she set about locking up the house. Not giving the now mind blown man a second glance, she checked the front door, checked all appliances to make sure they were off or unplugged, and started locking up doors. She didn't get a funny look until she blocked the kitchen's sliding glass door with a long piece of wood, wedging it so no one could open it from the outside.

"Paranoid?" he questioned.

"No, the lock doesn't work," the reply was smooth as she headed through the kitchen to the laundry room, where the back door resided, motioning him to follow as she pocketed her cell phone next. "C'mon. We go out the back." Heather let Ash exit the house first, watching as he squinted into the sunshine while she locked the door before closing it behind her. It was a steady walk along the back porch, down the steps and following a red brick path to the driveway where her sleek, silver Jeep Laredo settled. Sure enough, she caught that low whistle from behind her.

"That's new isn't it?" Ash gave it a once over, noting the sharp colors of light and dark as both sets of their shoes crunched on the gravel towards the vehicle.

"No. It's a 2004," Heather caught that stop and pause, assuming he had to remember all over again what year it was. Moving over to the driver's side, she slipped in and cringed at her work uniform, or at least part of it, still in the passenger seat. Ash was opening the door as she was pulling the blue shirt and black apron, hat, and headband left on the seat, tossing them into the back while he gave a little brow quirk in her direction. He slid into the seat, which was thankfully far back enough that his long legs weren't cramped in the slightest.

"Car smells like fried food," he muttered.

"That's because I work with it," she grumbled, seatbelt in place and a key in the ignition soon enough to allow the vehicle to rumble into life. "Seatbelt, or you're not going anywhere." She was already reaching down between them where two levers resided, a simple push of a button and a pull back to one click had the jeep in reverse. The satisfied click of a seatbelt was heard beside her as she put it in drive and headed down the driveway.

The drive remained relatively silent as the roads wound and slipped through, trees earning a bit of tension from Ash, a few flashbacks of unpleasant memories in the woods. They reached a highway soon enough and he found himself relaxing, dark eyes out the window and squinting out at a few other cars here and there. "So, where are we going anyway?"

"Wal-Mart." The brunette refused to take her eyes off the road, save for inspecting a few cars as they passed by her. "I'm not made of money, so you're getting' cheap jeans." Her peripherals caught a cringe on his face as she took an exit and turned right onto another side street road. "Look, you're getting what I can afford and you can try it on. It's not like I'm forcing you into anything that's uncomfortable." Her bottom lip caught on her teeth. "We may get a couple things actually, I think I need to grab something for my phone, now that I think about it."

"I don't need to try anything on," Ash grumbled. "I know what size I wear and I know what I like."

"You can like what you want. I'm not buying it if it isn't on my budget."

Minus their grumbling to one another, the drive had been relatively pleasant and quiet. The trip to the store in general took roughly 25 minutes, with traffic light stops included. Once parked, it didn't take long for the couple to make their way towards the supercenter. Ash had to admit, he admired that Heather's short legs could work fast enough that his longer-legged strides were comfortable, if anything lazy enough that he could keep an eye on the store itself and let his eyes linger here and there on things he wasn't accustomed to seeing. For one, the clothes and outfits of youth and even full grown adults. Since when did girls have pink or purple hair? Since when did Mothers, let alone fathers, let their daughters go out in skirts and shorts that were…well, tiny? Cool air blasted his face as they entered the store, making him shake his head of dark hair as his current help marched right over to get a grocery cart. This store was…huge. Brows lifted as he caught a hair salon to his right, food and registers to his left, and the rest of the store further within.

Clothes shopping itself was needless to say, a bit of a blur. Much searching, yes and no were said far too often at this point. He was even told to buy new underwear, to which he was a little shocked at the variety. The red face of his female companion was perhaps more amusing though.

As they rounded a corner and headed further into the store, Heather seemed a little more relaxed. "I've got to grab a card real quick," she said. "If you want to look around or something, you can," the brunette nudged the man who seemed all too fascinated with televisions and laptops. She couldn't help but smirk really, with all the new technology after a thirty year jump or so, she had to admit that his face was utterly priceless.

Ash did take his time, though still keeping an eye on the shorter brunette as he let his gaze linger on the smaller cases of what he could assume were movies in a bin. DVD's the sign had said, whatever that meant. There wasn't a VHS tape in sight. Brows furrowing, he looked in vain for titles he recognized and he didn't notice the gentleman with curly hair approaching him until he uttered out the words 'Can I help you?'

With a start, Ash turned to the guy with the blue and yellow vest, a pair of glasses hiding honey brown eyes that widened when they made eye contact. "Oh my god," was muttered by… Rick. Ash made a quick note to read the name tag while he was gaped at.

"I don't know if you get this a lot at all," Rick continued, "But you definitely look like that guy, Ash from Evil Dead."

… _What?_ Dark eyes lifted their gaze and narrowed a bit. "Excuse me?"

"Evil Dead? The movie they remade basically about Zombies and...Actually here." Rick made a quick motion for Ash to follow, who took cautious strides in doing so as his gaze narrowed over his shoulder where Heather seemed to be paying for the clothes he'd picked out. When they stopped, his eyes turned to one of those DVD's handed to him. Those Dark eyes narrowed in on the cover, inspecting the image of a face that looked more skeletal with the title, 'Evil Dead 2' on the front in what looked like an attempt at blood splattered lettering.

He didn't even hear half of what Rick said when he turned it over.

There on the very top of the cover was his face, bloodied, and sweaty. Further down were other images that were all too real for him: The woman whose parents owned the cabin, that crazy bastard and his girlfriend or…whoever she was. His heart thundered in his chest and in his throat as he swallowed again, the blood roaring in his ears died down just enough for Rick to speak.

"It's uncanny how much you look like Ash."

"Funny you mention that," his voice was found once more, and he was surprised it didn't crack at all. "...My name is Ash."

"No kidding?" Rick beamed. "Man, your Parents must've been huge fans. If you haven't seen these, I definitely re—"

"Nah, that's alright," Ash noticed the tremor in his hand as he slid the video back to Rick, nearly pushing it into his chest. "That stuff isn't really my favorite,"

"So, who's the guy you came in with?"

Heather furrowed her brows at the boy at the register, roughly her age…maybe. She didn't really know, but he always seemed way too talkative to just be friendly. Blonde hair and a pair of glasses were over hazel eyes as he handed back the pack of socks she'd bought for Ash.

"He's a friend..." Heather managed, offering a civil, quick smile as her total was announced while she grabbed her wallet and opened it up. "He sort of had an incident with luggage and he's short on cash so I'm offering to help out-"She squeaked when a warm hand gripped her shoulder almost a bit too tightly as she was in mid swipe of her debit card. Turning around, her oceanic hues met dark narrowed ones that startled her with the glare on them. "What?"

"I need to talk to you," Ash hissed.

"Can it wait just a second?" Regaining her wits, she apologetically smiled at the skeptical looking cashier as she swiped the card and pressed a few more buttons to announce she was paying with credit.

"They Have Evil Dead Here." The way he punctuated each word took the smile slowly but surely from her face, quickly grasping for the receipt seconds after Ash spoke so she could twist around.

"What?"

"You heard me," There growl was almost unnoticeable, but the look on his face rang loud and clear, making her grimace as she snatched up her bags, threw them in the cart and hurried off with a small, 'thank you' to the cashier. She was surprised she could walk, considering her entire body went cold and felt like jelly. She was pretty certain her heart had dropped right out of her and was left on the floor somewhere in Electronics. It came back to nearly choked her at the next hiss that was uttered into her ear.

" _You've got a lot of explaining to do,_ _ **shorty**_ _."_


End file.
